Boys And MEN
by umbrella0326
Summary: Story is by IlovesMesomeGlee, who is unable to post. All reader comments will be forwarded to this author. A new student inadvertently shakes things up between Kurt and Dave, while struggling with his own personal hell. This story takes place in season 2, post-Kiss. Completely AU. Kurtofsky, with Puck, Mercedes, Santana, and new char's. Maybe Sebastian. Neither owns Glee.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note -

Hi everyone,  
Thank you to everyone reading this. It means the world to me. :)

Ok let's get started.  
I had this story in my mind for a while and I was going to post but my computer decided to not work anymore :(

I am really truly grateful my friend umbrella0326 has put this story up for me. Thank you :) I truly am grateful for you and your constant support. :))) *hugs*  
You really are a great friend.

On to the story. Here's the introduction to my OC Adam. :)  
I hope you guys like him.  
This is mostly about him in the beginning. Don't worry – this a Kurtofsky story :). This is a personal one for me, guys.

Also a couple things to note regarding this story – everything that happened after the kiss, including even Blaine and Kurt's confrontation on the stairs, never happened in this story.

I think that is it? :)

Thank you again.  
Please review and please be kind.

P.S. I didn't abandon my other stories. I will upload as soon as I can.  
Thanks for your patience.  
Enjoy!

* * *

Adam Porter hated luggage. It always took up too much space in their Honda Civic trunk. It's bulky, heavy, and just too damn frustrating. He never liked having to load up his car with his family's belongings, but they had to go. They just had to.

Adam first loaded his mom's luggage, being careful not to damage her collection of ceramic owls. She stood there, watching him load the plastic container of her precious owls. Over and over, she finger-pointed every move he made, criticizing here and there his moves at making room for everything. Her schizophrenia was getting worse and he just couldn't seem to do anything right. Of course, that's the way mental illness can be. You think you're making progress only to realize that, many times, you can be right back at square one.

Adam sighed.

When he finally loaded up the trunk with his mom's stuff, next was his younger sister's luggage. Hannah, bless her heart, always seemed to travel lightly – one suitcase and one carry-on bag. And, his even younger sister Lilly traveled the same way, probably taught by Hannah.

Adam smiled. He was grateful Hannah and Lilly were considerate of his task.

.

Adam snapped out of his reverie. He didn't want to think about the two hundred, thirty –five mile trek from Chicago to Lima anymore. The move took its toll on the car, which was now a hollow harbinger of the future. Or, so it seemed.

The Civic's head gasket broke, cracking the engine block. The Civic was dead.

Adam sighed, as he pulled his DKNY, patched-up black shirt over his skinny, pale chest. It was perceived in his family to dress nicely when attending the first day of school at McKinley High School. A new school always presented new challenges – finding classes, finding your locker, making friends, joining any group that made you feel happy and wanted, etc.

Adam was buttoning up his shirt when he heard his sister call for him.

"Come on, douche bag! We're gonna be late!"

Adam sighed.

He finished dressing, grabbed two cereal bars, and left the house, following Hannah and Lilly already a good fifteen yards ahead of him. They practiced the walk the night before – McKinley School was a thirty minute walk along the city roads just outside of downtown Lima. They were lucky to have sidewalks to walk on the entire route, dotted from time to time with maple and sycamore trees.

As Adam walked, fresh aromas of falling leaves and chrysanthemums filled his nostrils in the early October chilly morning. He finally caught up to his sisters, which wasn't hard, thanks to his long legs.

"Nervous about the first day of school?" Adam asked. Two sets of heads shook before him, but he knew better. Everybody's nervous going to a new school, with so much doubt and presence of the unknown in front of them. Adam smiled a little.

"Well," Adam casually began, "just text if you're having trouble."

The trio continued to walk until Lilly had to branch off to go to McKinley's elementary school.

"Have a good-"  
"Thanks, Dad!" Lilly teased, as she ran off towards the school. Adam smirked, but stayed rooted to his spot, making sure she got to the school in one piece. Once she entered the school, he had to run to catch up to Hannah.

Soon, McKinley middle school was right before them, just a parking lot away from both the elementary and high schools.

"And you too, Hann-"

"You're not my Dad." Hannah coldly said as she strode off towards school. Adam sighed. He too waited until Hannah arrived at the school's entrance.

Slowly, it was Adam's turn to approach the high school. As he approached, he saw a student that caught his eye.

This student was huge! Brown hair, hazel eyes, and a McKinley varsity letterman jacket over his broad shoulders. Adam secretly hoped he had classes with this attractive guy. Adam walked faster to catch a glimpse of the last name over the back of the letterman jacket – Karofsky.

.

After leaving the school's office with a little map, Adam began looking for his first period class – glee. The little, useless map hung listlessly in his hand as he strolled down the hall, backpack over his other shoulder. Students passed him by, either staring at "the new guy" or ignoring him completely.

As he rounded the corner of one hall, he noticed there were no windows to show the beautiful, autumn morning sunshine. Adam loved the sun and could easily become a candidate for skin cancer caused by the light. Frowning, he increased his pace as the ten-minute warning bell blared in his ears. Jumping a little at the sound, he looked down at the map, trying to find the choir room.

WHAM!

His bookbag fell to the floor. His map became buried in the heap of notebooks and textbooks. Adam bent down to pick up his stuff, unaware that a Mohawk-haired boy was helping him.

"You should be more careful," the goofily smiling boy said to him. "Jerks around here wouldn't give two shits to help you after accidentally bumping into you."

Adam looked over at an incredibly beautiful, tough-looking guy, scooping up some of Adam's stuff.

"Thanks." Adam mumbled.

"No prob."

Once the task was completed, the boys stood up together. Adam noticed the boy's dark eyes and ornery expression. He thought bemusedly how he'd run into two very handsome boys and that this was one hell of a welcome to a new school. The other boy picked up on his smile and his smile broadened.

"Name's Puck."

Adam furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Well," Puck continued, "my first name's Noah and my last name is Puckerman. But people who fear me just call me Puck."

Adam's eyes changed to one of shock and surprise. After a quick moment, Puck couldn't take it any longer and doubled over in quick laughter. He recovered rather quickly.

"Just kiddin'." Puck said.

Adam smiled.

"I'm Adam."

"New here?"

"Yeah."

Puck leaned in a little conspiratorially, "You lost yet?"

Confused and amused, Adam responded, "Of course I am!"

Puck heartily laughed. "Well, don't worry. You'll get used to this place. What's your first period class?"

"Glee."

Puck's eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

"Really?" Puck said excitedly. "Me too!"

"Really?!"

"Yeah, really!" Puck said. "C'mon new kid. Let's go!"

.

Dave Karofsky was hot. The heat in the classroom was set too high for him. His letterman jacket, although a symbol of pride, was thick polyester and cotton. He had no problem keeping warm when he wore his letterman shield.

He was also hot because he was still angry. His dad decided to wake up with a hangover and a fist swung in his direction. But it was no problem for Dave. All he had to do was easily dodge the fist and casually shove his dad to the floor, while he made an efficient exit out of the house. Easy as pie.

First period calculus was almost over. He couldn't fathom why the school would set up such a complex class first thing in the morning. Even teenagers know that caffeine takes a while to wake people up to concentrate on such difficult subject matter. But he rarely had a problem keeping up in class. He had a head for numbers.

Soon, the bell rang and Dave Karofsky was up and out of his seat. He was one of the first to leave the classroom, eager to get out of the stuffy room and head towards his second period industrial arts class. Dave enjoyed this class. He looked forward to working with metal and the school's drill press.

The industrial arts classroom was located on the southwest edge of the building. Quite often, smells of burnt wood, metal, epoxy, and any other combustible material wafted into the school, despite the efforts of the massive ventilation system. Dave didn't mind these odors. He liked to play. What teenager doesn't?

His most direct route to second period took him past the choir room. In the past, Dave would tease the members of glee club mercilessly. He would peer into the room, making lewd gestures, smiling wickedly, or giving obscene, even sexual gestures. But this was the Dave Karofsky of the past. No longer interested in hurting people, Dave simply ignored the room.

A flashback of that morning's little shoving match with his dad set his jaw on edge. The damn flashback came out of nowhere and it heavily weighed on and annoyed Dave.

Angrily, he passed the choir room. But something grabbed his attention. He came to a stop, listened, and backpedaled a few steps until he was just outside the choir room doors. Then, he turned his head – everything in his world came to a screeching halt.

There, in the choir room, stood one of the most beautiful boys he'd ever seen, passionately singing his heart out. Dave stared unashamedly at the new kid, Adam Porter.

Entranced, Dave watched this new, beautiful, vulnerable boy singing "The Girl" by City and Colour. He watched Adam's throat and jaws reflex and retract with the aching, regretting loneliness of the agonizing lyrics.

Dave's mouth dropped, eyes cemented on the heartache flooding out of Adam's sweet, sweet voice –

And when you cry a piece of my heart dies  
Knowing that I may have been the cause

Dave had to get out of there. Fast! He wasn't prepared for guilt. He wasn't prepared for remorse. He wasn't prepared for sadness. He just wasn't prepared.

Dave ran.

.

No matter which public high school you attend in America, school lunches are always the same – a meat-based dish, canned fruit, under heated vegetables, and milk. It's a staple of nutrition that satisfies the USF&DA and parents. That's all that matters. Taste be damned.

Adam smirked, thinking this fact as he walked into the cafeteria for lunch. The cafeteria was an enormous room with vertical rows of tables and chairs. Students milled about, getting their food, sitting with friends, dropping trays on tables. Sounds of screeching chairs being moved, occasional laughter, and general chatter filled the air. Sunlight poured in from institutional-sized windows, only sporadically interrupted by partial blinds.

In other words, it was a typical high school cafeteria.

Adam quickly looked around, getting his bearings. As he spotted the line for the lunch trays and an area where he could sit, he heard a familiar voice calling out his name.

"Adam!" Puck yelled.

Adam turned to the left and saw a smiling Noah Puckerman quickly advancing towards him. Backpack over his shoulder and a lunch tray in his hand, Puck clapped Adam on the back.

"Come on! I want to introduce you to the Glocks." Puck eagerly said.

"The Glocks?" Adam asked.

"Yeah, the Glocks. Come on!"

Puck turned around and walked away, not even looking over his shoulder to see if Adam was following him.

Adam smiled. He thought, looks like I might have met a new friend.

He followed Puck down about four rows and then turned to the right, advancing about twelve more steps before he saw a group of fellow classmates. He walked around Puck and sat beside him, flopping his bookbag on the table.

"Everybody," Puck announced, still standing, "this is Adam. . .?"

"Porter." Adam supplied.

"Adam Porter." Puck said, still in announcer-mode.

"Um, Puck?" Artie carefully said, "we've already met him."

"I know that," Puck said, slightly annoyed, "but I wanted to introduce him to everybody as my new buddy."

Adam's head hurt. He looked at Puck in wonder, then back to the assembled Glocks with a polite, tight smile, and then back again at Puck.

Embarrassed, Adam quickly sat down.

"So, dude," Sam cordially began, "where are you from?"

"Chicago." Adam mechanically replied.

"What are you doing here?" Artie asked. "Chicago is, like, a million times better than Lima."

Adam was silent for a moment. Being an overall honest person, he had to think of a lie. The truth is simply not appropriate.

"I have family here." Adam replied. Well, Adam thought, at least that's the truth too. He watched several heads bob up and down, acknowledging the response. Relieved, Adam chose this moment to speak up.

"So, you guys are Glocks, huh?"

"Damn straight!" Puck said, his smile digging fresh dimples into his face, "And proud of it!" Puck quickly high-fived Sam and Artie. Adam was secretly charmed that the school allowed Artie Abrams to be on the football team. It really was a good, heart-warming move.

"So," Finn began, "what video games do you like?"

Conversation flowed easily. Talks flowed from the latest video games, to girls, to football, back to girls, to glee rehearsals, to the hate of someone or something called 'Vocal Adrenaline', and finally back to girls. Adam was grateful to be immediately accepted by not only one person (a cute guy at that) but a whole group of people that included jocks.

Adam was happy. He hadn't been very happy lately.

Soon, the bell rang and a horde of noise and rising teenagers bashed Adam's ears. Joining the crowd, Adam, too, got up, ready to head to fifth period history class. Throwing his packed lunch into the garbage can, Adam rounded the corner and left the cafeteria, secretly happy he didn't have the lunch served that day.

But as he passed another intersection of hallways, an awful smell flooded his nostrils. He turned his head to the left, in the direction of the odors and came to a halt. Students passed him, right and left, and Dave Karofsky was approaching him on the other side of the hall.

Adam wrinkled his nose at the odors – overcooked food from the cafeteria, burnt epoxy, and dust. It was a sickening combination that ruined his lunch for the day.

"What's wrong, queer?" Dave sneered as he walked by, "can't deal with what a real man does with his time?"

Adam stared at him, stunned. Dave passed by, a cruel smile on his face. But as Adam's eyes followed Dave, he couldn't believe the name on the back of the letterman coat – Karofsky.

Too bad, Adam thought, that jerk is cute.

.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - Hi everyone, thanks for reading. Again I appreciate it so much! Thank you to the two followers that followed this. You guys are awesome!

Thanks again to umbrella0326 for helping me post this. You are amazing! No words can describe how grateful I am. Thank you. You rock! I don't really have much to say about this chapter. So without further interruptions here is chapter 2. I don't Own Glee.

Please review. Please be kind. Enjoy! Thanks.

* * *

The dinner rush was getting started. The special, "Spaghetti Supper" was selling really well and Adam was busy. Way too busy. Adam still couldn't get used to the fact that many people in Lima referred to dinner as "supper." It threw him off his game. But a waiter is always good on his feet. Well, the good ones are.

Adam was assigned the tables on the far south side of the dining area, nearest the bar. Patrons, so far, had been kind and tipped well. Adam couldn't have been more grateful, even if he truly tried.

He was also grateful for the job in general. Since he moved to Lima, he was the man. Or, rather, he was the man of the house. As Adam assembled his order pad, pens, and apron for that night's shift, his thoughts drifted to his sisters and his mother. And, of course, his father. His younger sisters didn't know the whole story. Not many people did. Adam's job was essential, as the primary breadwinner of the house. Time and abuse changes many things in families, and Adam's was no different. After the move to Lima, money became an immediate problem. Lying on his application to Breadstix had to happen, despite the potential of a felony on his record. His alcoholic, unemployable, horribly abusive dad left in the middle of the night without a word, his mom's schizophrenia prevented her from working, and the sisters were simply too young. Adam's natural protective instinct kicked in and life began anew. He was the breadwinner. He was the makeshift dad. He was the impromptu husband. He was never a drunken abuser. He was. . .the man.

However, Adam's luck was about to change.

Marie, the hostess/manager, gave Adam a warning look as she seated two girls in the middle of his section. Touching his arm lightly, Marie said, "Be careful with those two."

Adam looked over. The pretty blonde couldn't have been much older than him and was very innocent looking. Her companion, however, was a fiery Hispanic girl, equivalent in age. Adam sighed.

Adam turned around and headed towards the kitchen to get his tray when one of the shrillest voices he ever heard slammed his eardrums –

"What does a girl have to do to get some service around here?!"

Several people in the restaurant turned and stared at the girl. A few that dared, glared at her. But Santana Lopez didn't care. Brittany just stared at the menu. Adam knew he was in for a long night.

"Why does the menu," Brittany innocently began, "make as much sense upside down as it does right side up?"

"Because, Brit, this is Breadstix."

Brittany thought for a moment and said, "Oh that makes sense."

A charmed look crossed Adam's face as he watched this exchange. It was lovingly obvious that the two girls cared for each other, which warmed Adam's heart. But he knew he was in for an interesting evening with these two. Purposefully, he walked towards their table.

"Good evening, ladies." Adam cordially began. Brit stared at the menu while Santana eyed Adam warily. "My name is Adam. Tonight's special is the Spaghetti Supper, with a side salad and your choice of biscuits or breadsticks. Can I interest either of-"

"She'll have an iced tea." Santana interrupted, still sideways eying him. "I'll have a Coke."

"An iced tea and a Coke." Adam gently confirmed. "Would you two like any appetizers?"

Santana sighed. "How old are you?"

Adam was caught off guard. "Ex-excuse me?"

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Uh huh."

Santana eyed him even more thoroughly. He tried not to squirm under her hawk-like stare. He thought he'd won the battle until he saw her smirk.

"OK, eighteen. Go away. We're busy too." Santana ordered. And with that, she gently took the menu out of Brittany's hand, piled it on her own, and practically threw them at Adam. Adam took the menus and left.

Adam thought, don't spit in her food, don't spit in her food, don't spit in her food, don't sp-

"Hey eighteen!" Santana hollered. Adam stopped, turned on his heel, plastered a smile on his face, and walked back to their table.

"Yes?" Adam patiently asked.

Santana eyed him again for a moment, and then said, "Oh, nothing. Never mind."

Adam never left a customer's table so fast in his life.

.

Over the course of the next half hour, Adam avoided the girls' table as much as possible. Friendly patrons came and went, leaving good-natured tips. Upper middle class families, wearing the best Sears fashions, ordered Filet Mignon and a bottle of wine, just to prove their wealth and status. Adam couldn't serve the wine of course, but the point was conceded.

All around the girls' table, evidence was clear that friendliness and politeness wasn't dead. It was only dead in the center, killed by a very determined McKinley High School teenage girl and her sugary companion.

Adam was briskly taking an appetizer and a refill of lemonade to a table just beyond the girls when he heard that distinct voice again. Adam inwardly sighed.

"Eighteen?" Santana asked, stopping Adam in his tracks.

"I'll be right with y-"  
"Bring us the wine list."

Adam couldn't hide his chuckle as he proceeded to his destined table. He dropped off the glass and appetizer, scooping up the empty glass in the process. He turned on his heel and side-stepped over to Santana.

"I'm sorry, but-"  
"Yeah, yeah." Santana interrupted, nonchalantly. "I know."

Adam hesitated, but couldn't resist asking, "Then, why-?"

"I just wanted to see your reaction." Santana responded, with a devilish look in her eye.

Adam smirked. There was something fun and funny about this girl. But there was another, much more vague interest in Santana that he just couldn't put his finger on.

"If your name," Santana said, looking away as if not really interested, "is really Adam, mine is Santana." Then she looked at Brittany. "And this is my. . .friend, Brittany."

Brittany looked up at him shyly. "Hi."

"Hi Brittany. Are you eighteen as well?"

Brittany looked at him confused. "Umm, no" she answered, with a bit of a snarky attitude, "I'm Brittany. Duh."

Confused, Adam just looked at Santana. Santana shrugged.

.

Soon, the girls got up to leave. And not soon enough it was for Adam. He was surprised to see a thirty percent tip. Even though Santana had angered him and Brittany charmed him, they had a mysterious level of respect for him, which he wholly accepted.

As they were leaving, Adam was required to bid them farewell.

"Thanks Santana, Brittany." Adam said as he passed them by. Adam breathed a sigh of relief. But suddenly, Santana came to a halt.

"Manager!" Santana called out just before she got to the door. From halfway across the restaurant, Adam watched the exchange between Santana, Brittany, and Adam's boss. He watched their lips move and heads occasionally turn towards him. He was well out of earshot and couldn't read their lips. The conversation amongst the three didn't last long. Santana briefly raised her hands in frustration and stormed out of the restaurant, followed by Brittany. The manager/hostess Marie glared at Adam and stalked towards him.

Adam gulped. It didn't take long for Marie to be standing right in front of his face.

"What the hell happened with her, Adam?" Marie demanded.

"W-what?" Adam exclaimed.

"She said you showed her a wine list!"

Adam sighed. He knew she would be trouble – and he was right.

Frantically, he walked through the restaurant, past the gracious patrons, past reasonable customers, and opened the door.

Slowly approaching her car were both Santana and Brittany, as if they were waiting for his harried arrival. And they were right. Well, Santana was right.

"Wait!" Adam called out, his hurried walking enabling him to catch up to a casually strolling Santana.

"Yes?" Santana coyly asked, slowly turning around, a smug smile on her face.

"Santana?! What the. . .?"

Santana simply smiled. "Oh, I just wanted to get your attention."

Adam looked at her like she was insane. "My attention?! You could've just asked to speak with me." He was a little out of breath, both from exhaustion and annoyance. The early evening cool air did nothing to help his heated body.

"Oh, I know," Santana calmly began, "I just wanted to talk to you outside of the restaurant."

Again, Adam looked at her as if she lost her marbles. He stared at her in wonder, waiting for her to continue. Finally, Santana explained a bit more.

"Look, eighteen," Santana said, "I just thought you could use a break from the usual Friday night insanity at Breadstix."

Adam chose this moment to cross his arms defensively. Santana's smirk remained on her pretty face. Brittany watched the show unfold.

A car pulled out of its spot and turned to head out. The headlights crossed her body from left to right, casting temporary harsh light on her beautiful tanned skin, making her hair glisten in the light. The car turned and left, leaving the trio in relative darkness, save for the parking lot lights.

"I just. . ." Santana faltered until she found the right words. "You're alright, eighteen."

"My name's Adam." he replied, a little flustered.

"Whatever." Santana continued unabated. "You have my respect now."

Adam appeared confused. "Your respect?"

"Yeah, respect. You could've lost your cool in there." And then Santana looked away for a moment as if lost in thought. "Others have." She smiled.

Brittany's phone was ringing in her purse. She turned her purse over and over.

"Sweetie," Santana said to Brittany, "open the purse."

Brittany paused and then opened the purse. She pulled out her phone. Just as she was about the answer it, the call went to voicemail. She frowned.

"Don't worry Brit," Santana sweetly said, "I'll get the message for you."

Brittany smiled at Santana. Santana almost appeared. . .gentle. Then, she returned her gaze to Adam.

"You're not really eighteen, are you?" she asked.

Adam said nothing, looking away. Santana gave him a knowing smile.

"You're alright, Adam." Santana said, suddenly serious. "You're alright."

And with that, Santana scooped up Brittany by her arm, got her in the car, proceeded to the driver's side, and left the parking lot. No fanfare, no further explanation, no. . .nothing.

Adam stood there bewildered for a moment before slowly turning around and trotting back into Breadstix. He didn't figure out what had happened. . .until later.

.

The next day, Adam was exhausted. He ghosted down the halls of school in the early morning hours. Caffeine could only go so far with him, trying to stay awake with only two and a half hours of sleep. He thanked his lucky stars that his first period class was glee. At least he didn't have to think.

On his way to the choir room, he passed a very sullen-looking Dave Karofsky. Given that the previous day's exchange with this angry boy wasn't good, he tried his best to ignore him. But something piqued his curiosity.

Dave's hand was bandaged. Adam noticed the bandaging seemed fresh and haphazardly applied. Little cotton strings dangled from the medical tape and what appeared to be fresh blood could be seen on the corners.

Suddenly, a hand covered the bandaged hand. Adam looked up to see Dave was glaring at him from afar. The boys passed each other without a word. Adam sighed.

Barely a moment passed when Adam heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Damn it!"

Adam whirled around to see Dave leaning against the wall, frantically messing with his bandages. He brows were furrowed, his face scowling as he shakily tried to fix the bandaging around his hand. Dave was getting nowhere fast. So, Adam made a decision.

He walked towards Dave quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention. The southwest corner of the school, where the choir room and industrial arts center were located, rarely had many students in the halls. Nevertheless, Adam silently approached Dave.

"Karofsky?"

Dave jumped a little and angrily eyed the beautiful singing talent in front of him.

"What do you want?" Dave asked, annoyed.

"Need some help?" Adam gently asked.

"No. I'm fine." Dave answered, wrapping a piece of gauze gingerly around his hand. Just as he made a rotation around his wrist, a strand suddenly broke free near his pinky. Dave snarled in frustration.

"Damn it!" Dave whispered.

"Here." Adam said, approaching Dave.

"Go away!" Dave ordered. "I've got it."

Angrily, Adam said, "No you don't."

Dave's head snapped up and briefly studied Adam. Dave saw the beautiful blonde boy's helpful expression and hated it. It annoyed him when he couldn't fix something himself and he didn't want this crooner solving his problems.

"No thank you. . .?"

"Adam. Adam Porter."

"No thank you Porter." Dave arrogantly said. "I've got it just fine."

Adam sighed. "No, you don't, Karofsky"

Standoff. Silence. The two just stared at each other, waiting for somebody to make the next move. Adam thought that confidence is one thing, but it takes bravery to ask for help. So, Adam took the initiative.

Adam took a few careful steps towards Dave. Dave said and did nothing, but surprised Adam by speaking first.

"Dave." Dave quietly said.

"Alright, Dave." Adam said gently. And then, he added, "Here. Let me see."

Hesitantly, Dave extended his arm towards him, looking away. Adam scanned the handiwork. It was obviously dressed by an amateur. And, in a hurry. Adam glanced at Dave, noting the strong jaw and deep muscles in his neck and arms. Adam swallowed before returning to the injured hand.

"Well," Adam said reassuringly, "this is an easy fix."

Dave, stunned, looked back at the boy. Adam correctly guessed Dave's perplexity.

"It is!" Adam confirmed. "Come on. Let's go to the nurse."

"No nurse." Dave glaringly insisted. Adam stared at him for a moment. He immediately understood. Dave didn't want any unwanted attention to his hand. All too easily, Adam understood.

"Then," Adam said, cocking his head to the left, "come to my locker. I can fix this."

Dave faltered with a confused look, shrugged, and then took a step towards Adam. Adam smiled.

Dave followed Adam down the hall towards Adam's locker. As luck would have it, Adam's locker wasn't that far away. Rounding the corner near the gymnasium, Adam stopped in front of his locker with Dave in tow. Dave was holding his injured hand, watching Adam's delicate fingers work the combination lock.

Adam, realizing he was being watched, simply worked on his task. He secretly loved being watched by this handsome, confusing, and enormous boy beside him. He couldn't figure out what this one, describing word was in his head about Dave – sweet. But it was there, nonetheless.

The lock snapped and Adam opened the locker. He fished around the top row, standing on tip toes to do it. Dave looked down at Adam's feet. The barest traces of a humorous smile adorned Dave's face, thinking it was funny that this cute boy had to stand on tip toes just to reach the top row. Dave suddenly looked away.

"A-ha!" Adam declared. Dave snapped out of his reverie and saw what Adam was looking for – a first aid kit. Dave was confounded.

"You carry a first aid kit in your locker?" Dave asked.

"Yup." Adam answered, distractedly.

"Why?"

Adam came to a complete halt. Dave watched, unaware that he hit a sore spot with Adam. He watched Adam's hesitation and instantly regretted asking the question.

"I just do." Adam said, just a little softer. Dave's eyes narrowed, confused by the answer. He knew there was more to this story, but decided Adam had earned his privacy. He let it go.

"Come on." Adam said, turning away from Dave and walking down the hall. Dave followed, still holding his hand.

Class still wasn't in session yet. Students were too busy, returning from the snack bar, chatting at lockers, boys flirting with giggling girls, heads down fiddling with iPods. You know, teenager life.

But Adam, followed by Dave, went relatively unnoticed. Soon, Adam arrived at the nearest restroom, which was unoccupied. Dave then entered.

Adam motioned Dave to the sink. Setting down his first aid kid, Adam pulled some brown, harsh paper towels from the dispenser and set them down on the counter top. Dave leaned back on the same counter top, turning his head to watch this fascinating boy prepare to treat his injured hand. A small smile of wonder and gratitude surprised Dave – nobody had taken the time to make sure he was cared for. He couldn't help but smile a little. When someone you barely know takes time out of his day to take care of you, you can't help but take notice.

Adam gently grabbed Dave's wrist and held it up in the air. He inspected the loose-fitting gauze, the irregular tape, the blood-stained edges. He "tsked" as he slowly turned Dave's wrist forward and backward, studying the situation.

He hesitated when Dave hissed in pain at one point. Adam moaned.

"Whoever did taped your hand didn't really know what they were doing." Adam remarked.

"Thanks." Dave said, sarcastically.

Adam looked up at him with an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry, Dave." Adam gently began, "I have experience with this kind of thing and when you have a severe injury like this, you should have it looked at by a professional."

Dave scoffed. "And you're a professional?"

"Compared to you." Adam answered nonchalantly.

Suddenly, Dave pulled his hand away, glaring at Adam. Adam relented.

"I'm sorry, Dave." Adam softly said, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I just wish I was. . .wherever you were so I could've bandaged this better."

"No you don't." Dave said sadly. Adam stopped and looked up at him. Immediately, Dave turned his head but didn't walk away. Adam noticed how sad and minutely angry Dave was – and couldn't stand it.

"Don't worry, Dave." Adam gently began, "I've gotcha."

Slowly, Dave turned back and saw a pair of sympathetic, beautiful eyes. He instantly knew he could trust Adam to his medical care and possibly more. But not now.

"Whatever," Adam began, just as gently as before, "or whoever caused this injury, I hope they deserved it."

Dave said nothing. Adam got to work.

Adam began the tedious work of gently pulling the loose strands of gauze around and around and around. The task bored Dave, but he was fascinated by how into it Adam really was. He found he loved watching this beautiful artist who was now a medic. A soft appreciation for him was growing in Dave's heart and he knew it. He loved watching the delicate fingers gently yet firmly pull the gauze away. He loved how gently Adam would tug where cuts or bruises made him wince but not for very long. He really loved how Adam showed so much care for the purple, ugly contusions and elongated cuts on his knuckles and the back of the hand. He loved how gingerly ointment was applied and how expertly a fresh gauze was wound and wound and wound on his hand.

He, again, loved how that final piece of medical tape held the medical masterpiece together. In sum, Dave admired Adam. Who wouldn't?

"How does that feel?" Adam asked.

But Dave didn't answer right away. He was still mesmerized by this wonderful boy taking care of him. When Dave didn't answer, Adam looked up. Two pairs of eyes met and the beginnings of a friendship were apparent.

Dave smiled and said the only thing that was on his mind. "Better."

.


End file.
